


Action Movies Covered in Salt

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Supernatural/Batman fusions. [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Gen, Humor, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Jason and Tim went from reluctant hunting buddies to brothers. Mentions of salt included. </p>
<p>(Where I take the Batman characters and dump them into the world of Supernatural. So everyone is a hunter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Action Movies Covered in Salt

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty simple:  
> 1\. Supernatural is the world I based this on. It isn't mine.  
> 2\. Batman isn't mine either.

                 Jason might possibly be the worst roommate Tim has ever had.

                 It wasn’t the fact that Jason snored, or the fact that he kept eating food that stunk up the motel room. It wasn’t the fact that Jason liked to fall asleep watching the news or bad action movies at full volume, or the fact that he would blatantly steal Tim’s stuff when he lost his own.  Tim lived with a group of teenage hunters for a year; he was used to this sort of chaos.

                 No,  Jason was a shit roommate because he kept taking Tim’s calls. Tim could handle a lot of things, but as soon as someone put his hands on his Blackberry, a line had been crossed.

                “Give that back, Jason,” Tim said, reaching across the motel bed to try to seize back his phone. Jason whistled, winking at his younger brother.

                “No, Cassie, Tim is doing great. He missed you very much. I’ve never heard someone moan a name so much in his sleep since I shared a room with Dick.”

                Tim turned bright red and dived for his phone once again. Jason stopped him by pressing his head back. “You are dead.”

                Jason covered the speaker with his hand. “You don’t kill anything unless it is a mythological creature. “ He lifted his hand, lifting the phone back to his mouth. “He says hi too. Yes, I’ll let him know that he needs to get a life and a personality. It was great talking to you Ms. Sandsmark.”

                Tim was almost positive he could hear Cassie swearing over the line.  He buried his face in the mattress and groaned.

                Why couldn’t he hunt with Stephanie?

***

                The first time Tim met Jason, Jason had tried to kill him.

                Tim was mostly over it; Jason was possessed at the time and somewhat under the influence of freaky dark magic that had been used to bring him back to life. Still, that didn’t make the scar on his neck any less visible. Or the memory of the word “Replacement” as his own blood seeped through his fingers any less memorable.

                So when Tim was fired, he didn’t take to the news that he would be hunting with Jason well.

                “Bruce, I’m capable of hunting on my own,” Tim said as he watched Damian smirk in the background, playing with the protection sigil around his neck. Bruce was sitting at the desk in Alfred’s house, tracing a map of recent demonic sightings.

                “Everyone needs backup, Tim. Hunters who hunt alone die fast. Jason has already agreed to it.”

                There was a long pause as Tim studied Bruce’s face. After being Bruce’s hunting partner for a few years, he had gotten good at reading the slightest of facial expressions. He crossed his arms.

                “You haven’t even told Jason yet, have you?”

                The silence was telling.

                Tim didn’t get to hear Jason’s reaction to Bruce’s order. He had managed to tap into the phone line for a few minutes, but the connection was so bad that all he managed to make out of it was a complaint about “babysitting” and “lack of trust.”

                He didn’t get to hear Bruce’s response, but whatever it was, it shut Jason up enough that his elder brother showed up the next day with a car, a fake ID, and a grin that was unnatural.

                Tim figured that he was better off not knowing.

***

                “You forgot the salt?” Tim yelled as he held up his shotgun, shooting back at the spirit of a very angry cat lady. Jason fired off a few rounds of his own, not even looking over his shoulder.

                “I’m not a fucking dumbass. I thought you had it.”

                “I told you that-“ Tim cut off at the sound of a vicious meow, and fired at least a dozen rounds at the spirits of angry cats. They scattered, dodging between his legs, leaving angry deep cuts in their wake on his ankles.  He hissed.

                “Looks like you’re not a cat person,” Jason called, shooting at the main spirit once more. Tim bit down on his lower lip.

                He couldn’t shoot Jason. It wasn’t worth it. At least, not that worth it.

                “What can I say, at least dogs can take basic orders,” Tim said, ignoring the blood leaking into his shoes. Jason’s expression was priceless.

***

                “Those kitties had nasty claws,” Jason said, wrapping up Tim’s cut legs hours later. The television blared in the background, and Tim wondered why he ever wanted to get into this business in the first place.

                “It could be worse, you know.” Jason tightened the bandages, wrapping them tight. "Before I bit it, Bruce and I tackled a case with hellhounds. I got in the way. They gave me this nice scar.” Jason rolled up his shirt, revealing a jagged long line right down his torso. Tim didn’t pay attention to that.

                He paid attention to the other vicious scars and burn marks that told the story of Jason Todd’s previous fate. They had to be years old by now, somewhat healed by the black magic, but they still made a patchwork of lines, like someone had tried to sow Jason back together.

                Considering that they had tried to give Jason as much as a normal funeral as they could at the time, someone actually might have. Tim didn’t want to ponder on it.

                “While I appreciate the blatant attention, I’m just not that into you.” Tim snapped out of his daze, realizing that he had been spending a good deal of time staring at Jason’s chest. He shook his head, sitting up, and coughed.

                “Uh, is that “Live Free or Die Hard” playing.” He pointed at the television. Jason smirked, walking over  back to his bed.

                “Glad to see you have some culture, kid.”

                Tim didn’t reply.

***

                Tim’s first scar on the job was caused by a sharp blade, a hollow sense of revenge, and the spite of a dead man.

                He covered it as best as he could. All of jackets had collars, all of his public outing shirts were turtlenecks or featured scarfs.  Kon had teased him for it, stating that Tim was “The one Hipster to Rule them all, one Express scarf to bind them.”

                The scar had mostly faded. But Tim could still see it in the reflection of the car window when the man who inflected it drove down the highway.

***

                When Tim got attacked by a werewolf in Kentucky, Jason proceeded to lift his gun full of silver bullets right at Tim’s heart.

                At least that what Tim thought until he shot right over his shoulder, hitting another werewolf right behind them.

                Jason ran over, ripping off a part of his shirt, and wiped away at the wound, reveling a claw mark rather than a nasty looking bite. He sighed, shook his head, and stood up, placing his gun back into his back pocket.

               “Stay there. I’ll make sure they can’t get you until we can patch that up.”

                Tim stared down at his leg and then back at Jason and wondered when he had become someone that Jason Todd wanted to save rather than to destroy.

***

                 Jason had nightmares.

                 “Jason wake up!” Tim yelled, shaking at the other man’s shoulders.  Jason was shaking, no trembling, his mouth half open in a scream that never made it past his lips. He gasped shallowly. Tim shook him again. “Jason, its Tim. Wake up!”

                 Jason eyes flew open, and he sat up straight in bed, his hands fumbling at his chest. Tim held onto him, digging in his nails to keep Jason from bolting. Jason stared at Tim, a lot like a frightened animal.

                “Joker.” Tim’s mouth popped open into a small o. The yellow eyed demon that had haunted Bruce Wayne’s life, the demon that had crippled Barbara, the demon who had blown up a young boy after beating him senseless when he refused to talk. Tim had met him once and that was enough.

                “He’s not here, Jason. The room is booby trapped. He’s not going to get you.” Jason relaxed slightly. “He’s not going to hurt you okay. I won’t let him.”

                “That’s what Bruce said,” Jason slurred and Tim wondered if he had been drinking again. Tim laid his brother back against the pillows, patting his shoulder.

                “I’m not Bruce.”

                 Jason smiled, a smile without any snark or spite. “No. You’re better.”

                 Tim had nothing to say to that. So when he woke up to find Jason puking in the toilet the next morning, he decided it was better not to remind him.

***

                 Eventually, when they had the option to take other hunting partners, they still ended up choosing each other. Jason turned down a case with Bruce in exchange for following a lead about elves with Tim. Tim turned down a case with Dick to help Jason on a simple vampire hunt.

                “Die Hard is not nearly as good as the first Mission Impossible and you know it Jason,” Tim said, throwing a rag at Jason as he worked at the car. Bruce, watching from a window, raised an eyebrow as Jason flicked him off.

                “Die Hard wins because Tom Cruise sucks. There is no contest.”

                “How did you know that it would work, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, walking into the room where Bruce looked down at his middle children.  Bruce didn’t tear his gaze from the window.

                “Tim and Jason both have a lack of self-preservation. Jason runs into a fight like it is his last, and Tim is more than willing to die if it means someone else lives.”

                “I wonder where they learned that,” Alfred said and Bruce flinched.

                “I couldn’t have that. I needed to watch Damian, and I needed Dick to help. I couldn’t send either of the off on their own unless I wanted one coming back in a body bag. So I gave them what they needed.”

                “And that is?”

                Below, Jason had gotten up and was now chasing Tim around the junkyard, oil in his hair, screaming bloody murder. Bruce smiled.

                “Someone to protect.”

***

                Tim woke up in the middle of the night to the Star Trek theme playing over Jason’s laptop. He blinked, once, twice, rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, and blinked again.

                “Are you watching the Wrath of Kahn?” Jason didn’t break his gaze from the screen.

                “You wouldn’t shut up about it, so I decided to see what the fuss was about. Go back to sleep.”

                Tim closed his eyes, and grinned. Maybe Jason wasn’t such a bad roommate after all.


End file.
